The Hero Of Fereldan
by Kim Villiers Strife
Summary: Onóra Cousland has lost her parents to a 'family friend'. However, with the blight appearing in the South of Fereldan, she must go. And join the Grey Wardens.However, will she manage to keep revenge in the lower levels of her mind? Maybe a certain Grey Warden would take her mind off it. Read on to find out more.


**PROLOGUE**

Onóra looked back helplessly at her burning home. Highever Castle was once thriving and beautiful against Fereldan's sky. And now, it was burning. Smoke eminated off the dancing flames effortlessly, covering the heavenly stars with it's vile darkness. Even from the edge of the forest she could smell the death and destruction, see the hungry, irate flames and the bitter taste of betrayal and sorrow lingered in her throat.

The young Cousland felt - she, in truth, didn't know how to feel; how to react. Her life revolved around her life as a noble in a castle. Her whole world was being classified as the daughter of one of the strongest Noble families and she was known as the Daughter of Teryn Cousland. And now, everything was callopsing in front of her eyes. Arl Howe of Amaranthine had taken that all away.

It happened all too quickly, one minute she was sound asleep; the next? Her Mabari, Reginald, was barking loudly and one of Howe's men burst into her bedroom, a notched bow aiming right at her. If it was under different circumstances she would have called it paedophilia, but when the arrow left the bow, she knew the man wasn't there to take advantage of the unarmed warrior like any other man would. He wanted; needed her dead.

"We need to go." The Grey Warden Commander, Duncan, told her as he began to walk ahead.

Onóra looked away from the burning castle, somehow, and turned to face the man. "And where will we go?" She asked, impatiently. "The Arl's men will be dotted around the area, trying to hunt down survivors."

Duncan looked at her understandingly. "We'll be able to get around them easily." He stated, looking back into the forest, "As to where we going, I have the answer. We will be heading south, to the Tevinter ruins of Ostagar. There you can relay to the King what has happened. He is also planning to stop the Blight there, if they get past Ostagar - " He paused for a while, a sigh escaping his lips, "Then Maker help us all."

Onóra watched as Duncan continued to walk on again. She looked back at Highever, salty tears beginning to string her eyes as they seamlessly made their way down her cheeks from her tear ducts.

"Good bye Mother and Father." She mumbled as if they were there, "I will always remember you. And I will get my revenge. I promise."

She looked down to Reginald who sat beside her, his head hung low, his tail still, and his whimpers pierced the black night sky. He rubbed his head against Onóra's leg, as if he was letting her know that he would be there to take care of her, protect her and help her. No matter what. And that was enough for the Cousland to smile. But, alas, she had to let go. And so did he.

"Come on. We don't want to get left behind now, do we?" She jestered as best she could. Reginald, however, understood her. He stood and looked at his owner, waiting for her to take the step.

With a sigh and a heavy heart, Onóra trudged on into the forest. Dark thoughts invading her mind. The fight between her vengeance and her diplomacy started to make her head hurt. Her heart wanted revenge; needed it, and her head was too busy finding the bad things that could happen in wanting Howe's death, that it like having two consciences. _If you get revenge, _She told herself time and time again, _Then you'll be no better than him. You would be a murderer all the same. __  
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And so, with this final thought, she tried to banish her anger; her vile thoughts and her dying need of Justice. With any luck, she would end up forgetting about the Arl and continue with her life how she wanted to continue it: meet the right guy; have kids; plenty of parties; grow old and grey, and then dying peacefully at the ripe age of sixty.

However, she knew that from the tales brother Aeldos told her about the Grey Wardens, she might not even reach that age. Might not die peacefully. But Onóra wasn't just going to believe those tales of their life span, but she was going to believe that she could grow old.

The young Cousland edged ever deeper into the forest, following the Warden Commander.


End file.
